I Am Fine Thank You
by fakeasain56
Summary: Loki is now an Avenger, and has moved into the tower. Clint keeps telling himself he will be fine. Bruce isn't buying it.
1. Chapter 1

Clint was fine. See, look at him smiling, nodding, and agreeing. Look at him plain just not caring. He was fine, fine, fine, and he dared someone to say otherwise. Besides, it wasn't like anyone else cared. No, the decision was set in stone.

Loki was joining the Avengers.

Oh no! A _villain_ joining the superheroes? Well whoop-de-doo, guess who else was not very happy? That's right, him! You know, the guy who had _been mind-controlled and forced to kill his teammates?_

But no, Loki had redeemed himself. He'd saved the Earth several times, and Thor was exceedingly proud of his little brother. And Tony was so _happy_ having someone who understood magic. Someone who he could finally test science against magic and (hopefully) create some shields against it. Steve was happy as well, because Loki actually listened, and with Clint and Hulk running off to do whatever they wanted, the Avengers often were only at half-strength.

And Natasha… Natasha was _happy_. He'd rarely seen her so happy, in her own stabby way. There were very few men who could weave lies like her, and even fewer who, once realizing they'd been outsmarted by a woman were fine with it. Plus, well, there was some kinky stuff going on in the bedroom.

So yeah, four out of six of the Avengers had been perfectly fine with Loki moving in.

As for Bruce… well… Clint didn't know what the mild-mannered scientist thought about the god. And Hulk wasn't counted in for these kinds of decisions, which normally Clint and Tony would protest, but today's meeting was rather perfunctory.

There hadn't been much of a warning, just Fury gathering the Avengers to get a vote on whether or not to allow Loki in as an Avenger. It wasn't even a real vote, because Loki was already hanging around the tower more often then not.

But Fury was obviously pleased to have the demi-god on their side (which _hurt_ like nothing Clint had ever felt before because Loki had almost killed Coulson, and he still remembered the sheer devastation that Loki had wrought, but Coulson insisted he was fine, and Clint was as well) and the rest of the team had instantly voted him in, Bruce after Tony had nudged him.

And, since Clint is _fine_ he agreed. He gave his consent. Look at him ladies and gentlemen; the former circus clown was so smart it was a miracle. He could even do trick bowshots, which was a crap superpower these days anyways.

It wasn't like he was having dreams about the mind control. He wasn't. He hadn't had them in nearly four months now, and he had counted every last day. So, he didn't see any good reason to disagree. None whatsoever.

It didn't matter if he disagreed anyways; it was pretty clear who everyone was going to side with.

Imagine this kids of the world: A lowly archer with good aim, too big of a mouth, and a tendency to dig himself a deep, deep hole in social situations. Versus- wait for it- a demi-god. A demi-god that could charm politicians into giving up a couple million dollars to fund the Avengers, had snarky good looks that he just couldn't compare against, and _magic._ You have three guesses on who the Avengers would choose, and the first two didn't count.

So yeah. Loki. Avengers Tower. He was totally cool with this, and he could totally deal.

* * *

The first time Clint had run into Loki officially after he had first moved in, it had been shortly after midnight, and Clint had been completely unarmed, still sleep-fogged after returning from a month-long stalking mission that gave him only four hours of sleep a day.

Loki's dark eyes caught his own light ones, and he froze, foot hovering a hairsbreadth from the floor, _drowning_ in the onslaught of memories._ There wasn't a single shred of doubt left in his mind. Simply glorious purpose as he walked the halls, bow humming softly in his hands, the red painting the walls and dripping slowly, slowly, filling the entire hallway, and it was up to his neck, but it didn't matter because he had a mission, but there were hands grabbing his ankles trying to pull him down and he couldn't breathe-_

"Barton." Clint blinked, and realized that he was crouched on what had to be the highest point in the entire tower, trying to grip an invisible bow.

Below him, Bruce Banner stood patiently, holding what looked like to be a knife. He… He really, really wanted that knife. It technically wasn't a throwing knife, but he knew how to throw it anyways.

Banner was still waiting patiently, apparently not off-put by his staring. Which was odd. Then again, it wasn't like he knew much about the doctor- he knew Hulk far better. Hulk was his wings, and his catcher. Clint couldn't name how many times he'd nearly missed making very intimate friends with the ground.

Now he was feeling a little ashamed that he hadn't gotten to know the doctor a little better. So he smiled as best as he could as he began the climb down from the top, forcing his voice to ask cheerfully, "Anything I could do for you doc?"

"Natasha wanted me to pass this on to you, and to tell you that she is going to be out on a mission for the next two weeks." Banner was rather unruffled despite the fact that it was still dark here outside, and he'd been ordered by a master assassin to pass on a weapon. "She said that she was going to pass it on to you herself, but she got distracted by Loki and then she couldn't find you."

Wait, since when could Natasha not find him? She knew him better then he knew himself. She shouldn't be confused. "She tried your room, the air-ducts, and the archery range, before time ran out. So I volunteered to find you."

"Found me pretty quick I presume?"

"I asked Jarvis." Bruce replied, handing the knife over, pressing the handle in Clint's palm, the cold of his hand shocking Clint just for a moment.

He yelped, and yanked his hands away, before reaching out to grab Bruce's hands again, completely forgetting the concept of personal space. "Your hands are freezing Banner! What did you do, stick them in a freezer for a few hours?"

Bruce snorted, a corner of his mouth tilting upwards, so Clint figured he didn't do too badly, "No. They're like that naturally. There's a reason why I naturally migrate to warmth."

Clint shook his head in disbelief, squinting at the hands, "I don't know doc, you sure you don't have frostbite?" He squinted at the hands, feeling the rough calluses beneath his fingers, marks from washing everything by hand for years, not yet smoothed away by his stay in the Avengers Tower.

The tips of his fingers brushed along rough fingernails, and that's about when the spy realized Bruce hadn't actually answered him. He glanced up, and Banner was staring at him. Right. Social situations. See how he failed.

"Thanks for passing on the knife." It was Natasha's alright, smooth and perfectly balanced. She knew he had been thrown off his game, even if she wasn't sure of the reason.

Clint flipped it in one hand as he tested it out- the metal wasn't something he recognized. "I'm pretty sure it's a knife that either Loki or Thor gave her." Banner offered, face completely smooth except for sharp brown eyes that watched him… for what exactly?

Clint smiled through suddenly gritted teeth, nodding in response. It was fine. Perfectly fine. He was still over what Loki had done to him.

Bruce made a small noise, and Clint turned to look to see the scientist staring at a reflective surface of Tony's high-tech machines with surprise. Dim starlight and the city lights barely gave them both enough light to even cast a reflection.

Abruptly, Banner's lips pursed, and he whirled on his heel to stomp towards the stairs.

Clint blinked after him, before quickly catching up, "Geeze Banner, bi-polar much?"

"No Barton."

"C'mon, we were having a perfectly good conversation about knives, right?"

"No Barton."

"What crawled into your bed and died Princess?"

"If you don't shut up within the next two seconds, it will be you."

Silence.

_The hell? Since when did Banner do stuff like that? Hulk likes me, right?_ "You wound me Banner, Jade Jaws likes his cupid the best you know."

Dark brown eyes turned to him, as Bruce smiled eerily, "I know. That's why I gave it two minutes."

Knew? Barton's eyes narrowed at the slightly hunched back, as Banner's fingers tapped against the thigh of his leg, a pattern that didn't quite make sense. Okay, now he was the one getting pissed-

The elevator doors whooshed open and Clint nearly ran straight into Loki.

Nearly, because Banner was suddenly there inbetween them, glaring slightly up at the demi-god. "Loki. What are you doing here?"

"My lady wanted me to check on her… partner, because she could not." Nice to know Natasha still cared about him. "I trust you are well archer?"

Clint nodded, forcing himself to remain calm, calm, calm and open. The knife remained deliberately loose in his hand, body posture not giving away a single feeling to those who didn't know him.

"Actually Loki, I wanted to talk to you."

The demi-god actually kind of flinched a little, looking to Bruce. Bruce smiled, sweetly, but Clint could feel something in the air, charging it with electricity. "Have you been using your magic in the tower?"

"Only for clothing and when Stark requests." The prince actually looked a little hesitant, a far cry from his normal arrogant prick behavior that could give Stark a run for his money. "Why do you ask?"

Bruce's lips pursed, as he considered the question, before he shook his head, and bypassed Loki in the elevator to head towards the stairs. "Just checking. I need to go test something."

Clint nearly screamed at Bruce not to leave him alone here with Loki, before biting his tongue. It wasn't like he could actually say it. Besides, he had a knife. And he was an adult, and he would deal with it like an adult.

It wasn't so bad, with dawn slowly creeping over the horizon, filling the sky with light. It chased away the shadows and the darkness, and promised him that he would be in Loki's blind spot. So yeah, he could handle this.

"Archer."

"Yo." Anything else he could have said turned to ash as he kept perfectly balanced on his feet, ready to start running if he had too.

"Natasha wished for us to settle any differences we may have left between us. She made it very clear that she finds you to be a very important part of her life." Years of working together did that, but Loki already knew that. He had made Clint tell him that.

He had made Clint tell him about _Barney _and he hadn't even willingly told Coulson about that. "So I was hoping that I could be assured that when it comes to battle we will not try to kill each other."

"Sure." See, look at the mature adult calmly and rationally discussing things with another adult. Wasn't he perfect? He should be put into a sainthood program, right beneath Bruce.

Loki nodded, apparently taking his words for what they were, and gestured, "I'm heading down, Steve said he is going to make breakfast."

Go into the tiny metal box with the person that had ripped his mind out and broke it? Sure, why not? Clint stepped into the box, forcing himself to relax, and felt his heart slowly begin to pound its way out of his chest.

It _hurt_, his heart beating so fast, choking up his air pathway. Loki was staring at him, as if about to dissect him, and he could see it already, the staff reaching for his heart, threatening to drown him the warm comfort of having only one purpose and-

The doors whooshed open, and Loki stepped out. He watched him go, still frozen in place, trying to convince dead feet that they did want to move, that they did want to go after Loki and towards Steve's amazing pancakes. "Are you healthy Barton?" Loki's voice was charming even when he wasn't trying, and Clint found himself feeling for the knife, but it was slimy in his hands.

"I'm going to bed." He announced instead, and like a little kid, jabbed the close door button before Loki could reply.

He'd do this by degrees, get used to Loki bit by bit like poison.


	2. Chapter 2

Nowhere was safe. Absolutely nowhere.

If Clint was crawling through the ventilation system, then a construct of Loki could appear at any second to impart important information. If he walked the hallways, then he would abruptly run into the god, still wearing his Asgardian clothing.

He hadn't gotten much sleep, prowling his room for any stray pieces of magic, despite the fact that he wouldn't even be able to defend himself against them, unable to rest while knowing that at any second, Loki could appear in his room.

Then, it actually happened.

A construct appeared in his room, and Clint didn't manage to stop himself in time to not send three arrows right where the eyes were located.

The construct instantly vanished, and he lowered his bow with shaking fingers, staring with wide eyes at where the construct had stood just seconds before. Then, in a sudden burst of energy, Clint clung his bow across one shoulder, picked up his quiver of arrows, and escaped into the shafts.

The room was no longer safe- it had never been safe, and Clint was going to find somewhere safe to sleep if he had to stay up straight for the next week. He'd done it before, he could do it again. Watch him.

Besides, at no point was he overreacting. You didn't sneak into an assassins room and not expect to be shot. Who did that?

Jarvis chimed softly, "Doctor Banner?"

There was a low groan from below him, and Clint froze. Mentally he mapped out the shafts, and realized that he had been going as far from Loki's room as possible, which meant in the general direction of up and towards Banner's room.

"Wha- Jarvis?" The sleep-fuzzed voice spoke up, as Clint remained in his position above Banner's room.

"Yes Doctor Banner, would you please go to Laboratory Five? Loki requires your medical experience."

"My what? How and when- What happened?"

Bruce was rustling around the room, obviously gathering up the material he thought he needed, and gearing up. Clint sourly wondered why Loki hadn't just sent up another shade of himself up to the room. "Apparently Sir and Loki were testing out how far Shades could go, and when Loki was startled, he hit his head on the table."

Bruce stopped in his room. "He hit his head."

"Yes."

"Is he speaking?"

"Yes."

"Is he bleeding?"

"No."

"Then Tony can take care of it himself. They both know how I feel about magic, and if they've been doing it in the Laboratory, then obviously… Wait, Laboratory five is my laboratory when Tony hasn't dragged me off, isn't it?"

Jarvis, always a helpful robot willing to screw his creator over in a non-lethal way, answered, "Yes Doctor Banner."

Clint peeked through the grill to where Bruce Banner, in only pants, stood in the middle of the room, looking slightly frustrated. Long lashes fluttered close, and the thin chest expanded slowly. "Tell them I will be down in a few minutes."

Bruce left the room.

The archer curled up in the vents above Bruce's room, settling down for a long nap- Bruce's place was safe. Bruce's place was _safe_. After he had gotten a few nights sleep, he was going have to thank the doctor. Discreetly- he doubted Bruce would be too happy to learn that there was a SHIELD agent camping out above his bedroom. Paranoia (sweet, sweet paranoia, there was a reason he was alive this long) did that to a person.

He shifted towards the grill, where he wouldn't block the airflow, and finally feel into the first natural sleep he'd had in over a month.

* * *

As soon as Bruce figured out what was going wrong with his mind, he was going to apologize to Loki. The demi-god had been repeatedly smashed into the ground every single time the Avengers went to battle and Hulk spotted him, so obviously the entire team had been pushing him to make amends with the god.

Well, all except Clint. Clint avoided everyone except Natasha- Most of the memories he had of 'Cupid' were green tinted and washed in rage.

In Bruce's mind, at the very back, he felt _him_ stir at the mere thought of Clint. He gritted teeth as he hiked up the bag further on his shoulder, and continued marching down the lab. Bruce didn't know why _he_had been so active lately, but he had a guess-

It was all because of Loki.

Loki and his magic.

Before Loki (he was beginning to divide his Life in three now, instead of just two, and he wasn't sure what to feel about that) he had always felt The Other Guy curled up in the back of his mind, like some kind of lurking lion, ready to charge at any moment.

Right now… _ "Cupid?"_The Other Guy mind voice, rolling and powerful, just a little bit painful, speared through his mind. Bruce took a deep breath, hands clutching at the strap of his bag, mangling it.

It had to be Loki. Loki's magic had to be playing havoc on his mind, and making him imagine things, because he was not acknowledging the fact that he and The Other Guy could communicate.

The Other Guy huffed softly, snarling in response.

Bruce wished that Tony had proper doors that he could throw open dramatically. It was the little things in life that he missed; being able to scare the pants off of people he was pissed at was one of them.

Not that it would work with Stark anyways, but still- it was the impression that counted.

Inside the room, Loki stiffened just a little as he entered, and Bruce smiled sardonically. The Other Guy was never very happy whenever he saw Loki, and right about now was stirring enough to cause a fit.

"Yo, Bruce, decided to go shirtless I see today. Nice hair."

Bruce considered chucking the bag at Tony's head and going back to bed, before he sighed, running hands through his hair. He could feel every strand of gray mixed within the darker hairs. It had to be because everyone else around him was acting sixteen instead of their actual age.

Even _Natasha _was happier then she normally was, the rare smile blooming more often whenever she saw Loki. Children. All of them.

But if love was for children…

Bruce settled the bag in front of Loki, pulling out the small flashlight. "Look at me so I can check your pupil reaction."

"I can quite assure you doctor that I am fine-"

Bruce ignored the words to wrench the face upwards, shining in the light anyways. He was angry, could feel it curling under his skin, creeping through every action.

Bruce loved the Avengers, loved the good both he and The Other Guy did, loved the fact that he was so easily accepted- but he also couldn't lie that sometimes he missed the openness of the road, and the ability to set the pace of the day himself.

The light clicked off, and dazed eyes stared at him. "Whatever damage was done, I can't do much other then suggest you pop a few pills if they can work, and then go lay down for awhile. What were you doing to get injured anyways?"

The last question was actually addressed to Tony, because he knew Tony.

The billionaire shrugged, "Eh, we were testing the range of his shades. We got as far up as Clint's room, when Clint shot him. We'll have to remember not to suddenly appear in his room."

The Other Guy stirred, snarling, _ "No hurt Cupid! No hurt Cupid!"_

Bruce blinked.

Words. That had been real words.

It was settled; he needed to get out of here. Now. Before he went completely insane.

"Now then, if you'll pardon me, I have to get ready." Bruce announced distantly, pulling himself to his feet.

Tony frowned, and Bruce hurried out, before the genius could do much more then stare at him. If he left it for too long, then Tony would not only figure it out, but he'd pull all sorts of sneaky little strings to keep him from going.

He just needed a little peace and quiet, and no _magic_. Stupid magic messing everything up. He fully agreed with Tony's complete and utter dislike of magic. It was stupid, that it was.

And apparently he was speaking yoda speak. Bruce really needed to get some actual sleep, and then hit the road.

But first- paperwork. Bruce doubted that SHIELD was going to let him go running off anytime he wanted, especially not with The Other Guy being volitale whenever Loki showed up. He was supposed to play nice, but every time he saw Loki, he saw green rage as well.

Speaking of which… He hadn't seen the archer lately. Bruce hesitated, before shrugging. Clint could take care of himself… but he still wanted to check. "Jarvis? Where's Clint?"

"Currently Agent Barton is in the air ducts where he escaped too after he shot the construct of Loki."

Air ducts? Bruce squinted up at the ceiling- it wasn't sanitary to sleep in there. At least, he hoped Clint wasn't sleeping in there.

"Do you have a general location of where in the air ducts he is?"


	3. Chapter 3

Clint woke up in a bed. A soft, comfortable bed that _he was not in last night_ - He bolted upright, hands instantly snatching up his bow and aiming it directly for the only person he could automatically sense in the room.

Bruce Banner, perched in an uncomfortable chair, snored away softly as he clutched at what looked like a tablet in his hands. Clint really didn't know- Stark made such weird stuff, he couldn't even begin to identify it all.

He lowered his bow slowly, glancing around the room, the tip of his arrow brushing against the fine sheets. The sheets in his room matched Bruce's, but still-

The doctor shifted, and Clint smacked his forehead. "Sure Barton, forget that you just kicked the doctor out of his own bed."

He glanced upwards, seeing the open air vent- Bruce had to of pried it open and dragged him out. Either Bruce was strong then he originally realized, or Clint had slept through being dropped to the floor. Either option wasn't all that acceptable.

Carefully the archer put the arrow back into the quiver, and swung the bow over his shoulder. Clint was still completely dressed, which was a small favor. Bruce shifted in the uncomfortable chair, and Clint reached out, ready to shift the doctor back into bed.

The second his hand touched one thin shoulder, Bruce started awake, on guard. And here Clint thought he was jumpy. Still, he was feeling so much more happy what with the whole getting some rest, so he grinned like nothing was wrong, "Morning sunshine!"

Bruce blinked at him a few times, mouth moving slightly, before snapping shut. "I-ah- um, Good morning?"

So. Bruce was going to go the Awkward Route? Not the funniest route in the world… "Do I get breakfast in bed too?" He fluttered his eyelashes, fully expecting for Bruce to just send him off.

Clint wasn't prepared for the long, thoughtful look like Bruce was pulling him apart piece by piece to get at what lay beneath. "Yes. Stay right there."

The scientist pulled himself to his feet, ambling out without shoes on. Clint stared after him, open-mouthed and gaping. Bruce wasn't really- who would- even _Clint_ wouldn't bring himself food-

"Go back to sleep agent, you need it." Bruce's voice drifted out of one of the side rooms, and because of his insatiable curiosity, Clint pulled himself out of the warmly inviting bed, and moved to where Bruce's voice came from.

Bruce, apparently, had created his own kitchen. Several portable grills were decked out on top of the smooth cabinet, as a crock-pot, rice cooker, and full-sized refrigerator and freezer hummed softly away. The sink was piled with dirty dishes. "Wow Scruffy, nice kitchen."

"Scruffy?"

Clint nearly stuffed his foot into his mouth. Sure, first time actually getting to meet Banner, and he had to insult him. "Scruffy." He affirmed, waiting for the other to shoo him out.

Bruce just shrugged and went back to fixing breakfast. Clint found a place to perch and stare.

The smell of scrambled eggs quickly filled the room, as Bruce reached into the fridge and pulled out pre-chopped vegetables, throwing them into the rapidly growing omelet without even so much as batting an eye.

Clint eyed the omelet with growing horror. Banner wasn't seriously putting peppers into it was he? "Clint, you might want to pull out the milk."

Yes, yes he was. "But mommy, I don't like milk!"

"Yes sweetheart, but milks good for you. In fact, This food is a good source of Protein, Vitamin B12 and Selenium, and a very good source of Vitamin D, Riboflavin, Calcium and Phosphorus."

Clint stared, desperately and furiously trying to bring up his high-school classes. He failed. He had dropped out of high-school, and he had no idea what Bruce was talking about. Ribo-what?

Bruce, noticing the look on his face, smiled. "Just go get the milk. It's good for you."

"Sure thing."

It was surprisingly easy, to slip in among Bruce's routine like he belonged there. Mostly because Bruce was one of those people who just plain rolled with the day however it fell out and didn't exactly try to stick to routine.

Either that or Bruce's routine had been so disrupted he had plain given up trying to make sense of the day. Clint leant towards the latter; he could mess up anybody's day.

A platter full of scrambled eggs and veggies slid onto the table, as across from him, Bruce settled into a seat. "Thanks for the food."

"No problem. The fridges are always well stocked. Tony insists."

"He's your boyfriend. Of course he insists." Clint felt the need to point out- it was obvious, right? He wasn't the only one who was seeing-

Bruce choked on his food, and for a rather horrible second, Clint could see Tony's glare at killing his boyfriend over food. Was this supposed to be some sort of cosmic joke?

Clint started to his feet, ready to pound it out of him, when Bruce breathed in, and Clint relaxed. "Ergh, um- wait- Tony and I are not together."

"Yeah, right. Go pull the other leg, it has bells on it. If you want to keep it a secret..."

Bruce shook his head, putting down his fork and staring down at the plate. "No. Miss Potts accused us of the same thing but ah- I can't… Tony's a good friend… but… erm- ah- he's too- focused? I mean, neither of us are good at remembering things, but he likes pushing my buttons. And while I can- appreciate that… it's not good all the time."

Some inner knot he hadn't even known existed eased slightly, and Clint had to grin. It was so easy, sitting here, teasing Bruce. It was like Before Loki had come to the tower.

Loki. _Loki_.

"Aw, Shi-" Clint stood up, turning towards the door, "I shot at Loki last night-"

"Don't worry about it, he's fine."

"But I-"

"Eat your food first." Bruce admonished quietly, without budging from his seat. "I already checked on Loki, and despite the headache, he's doing fine. Later today, I'm going to be running some standard medical tests. You are going to sleep."

Clint snorted bitterly, once again moving towards the door, "No thanks Banner." He didn't want to intrude any longer, and he really did need to go apologize to Loki, especially before Natasha came back.

If she figured out something was wrong… Clint pushed open the door.

Instantly bright eyes found his, as Loki paused in the act of knocking on the door. "Ah. Barton."

_He was drowning, drowning, drowning he couldn't breathe because he wasn't allowed to breathe but it was peaceful and calm, the light blue of the staff pervading all-_

"Loki." A warm hand was placed on his shoulder, guiding him back to the present. "What are you doing?"

"I wished to locate the archer and apologize to him, for appearing so suddenly within his room. It was not my intention… to ah, startle him so badly."

Bruce nodded. Clint plastered on a smile as he replied, "I was about to find you to apologize for the same thing."

"No, the problem lies with me." Loki could be gracious when apologizing, and suddenly Clint felt like the bad-guy here.

Bruce made a noise, "I certainly hope you don't plan on appearing in anyone elses bedrooms. Especially mine."

Loki _flinched_. Clint stared. Was Loki seriously scared of Bruce? Because he could see why Loki would be scared of Hulk, but not Bruce. "Of course not Doctor."

The gentle acquiesce, and polite nodding, grounded by the fact that Banner's hand was still on his shoulder, the archer couldn't help blurting out, "And no shades in my room either, got it?"

Loki looked surprised, before shrugging. "As you wish."

Loki swept out, and Clint's shoulders dipped in pure exhaustion for a single moment. The warm, comforting weight didn't disappear, as Bruce softly squeezed his shoulder. "Are you okay Clint?"

"Yeah, just fine." Clint flashed him a shaky smile, "Now then, about breakfast-"

Bruce smiled, and Clint didn't mention the warmth of those hands as Bruce led him towards the table. He missed them though, when Bruce pulled away, and substituted as best as he could by leaning a leg against Bruce's chair, letting thigh brush against thigh.

Bruce shot him an odd look, but didn't protest, merely biting into the rapidly cooling omelet.

* * *

Clint was an enigma. Bruce felt he was fully qualified to say this. He stared at the blinking console as he shoveled food mechanically into his mouth in the main kitchen.

He had barely known the man before, (this one was not yet another division, not yet, but he could feel an twist in his life threatening another break in the pattern) But Clint… Clint had been popping up like wild dandelions. With just as many trollish tendencies.

Like, for example, when Clint had reprogrammed his alarm to Kermit's _It's Not Easy Being Green_. Or when Clint had managed to secure his table to the ceiling. Or when his glasses had been moved to the other side of the room, and he spent five hours looking for them, before the archer had guiltily apologized and given them back.

So yes, Clint had been very, very annoying in a… well…. Rather cute kind of way. Clint almost reminded him of his dog back in Rio before he had been forced to leave him behind- distant until he got used to you, then bowling a person over with sheer joy.

Besides, for a lonely, grumpy, middle-aged man like him, this was about the most human interaction he could hope for. And he couldn't forget the fact that he had a monster living under his skin.

The Other Guy snorted, softly, flexing within the confines of his mind. "Like Cupid." He said mournfully. "Cupid friend."

But if a friend became something more… not that it would. Because… well… there was the tiny problem of the Other Guy, as well as the fact that he was probably twice Clint's age. And while his yoga may keep him fit, Clint had to want sex. Everyone wanted sex. He wanted sex, but it wasn't quite possible.

And well- Clint and Coulson had a whole thing going on right?

"Heya Scruffy!"

A warm hand brushed against his shoulders, and he automatically turned towards it- to see empty air. A smirk twisting his lips, he turned a little further, to see Clint standing there with an innocent expression on his face.

The innocence went ignored as Bruce instantly homed in on the dark circles beneath eyes. He lifted his hand, thumb brushing against the dark flesh, "Clint? Are you okay? You haven't been getting enough sleep, have you?"

He had suspicions- With Natasha returning, Loki had been more active in his wandering of the tower. Clint always went quiet and dark when Loki entered the room.

"It's fine Doc." Clint waved the concern off airily by flapping a hand in the air, but didn't brush away Bruce's fingers against his face. He should probably remove those fingers, but he didn't want to. The skin had the slightly uneven texture of someone who hadn't slept in a few days, rough and almost stubbly.

"What are you looking at my stubble for Doc? You can't talk about it just for your information. Your stubble gets stubble."

Somebody laughed.

Not Clint, because he knew Clint's laugh. This was deeper, and more of a snort, and then a half giggle and _Oh_. He was laughing. Bruce was actually laughing for the first time in years.

His body curled automatically as he shook with pent up laughter, and Clint's desperate voice in his ear as a strong arm circled in around his shoulders, "I didn't break you did I? Crap, I totally broke you. How do you fix a doctor?"

Bruce couldn't help the howl of laughter, leaning into Clint, burying his face into the gorgeous arm, because looking at Clint's face would just make everything worse. "Can I poke you doc? Scruffy, Freckles, Princess, and all the other nicknames I have called you- they didn't offend you or anything-"

Bruce sniggered.

Clint's shoulders relaxed. Then abruptly went stiff and taunt as the door flew open open.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce stilled, but didn't move, head comfortably buried into Clint's shoulder. There was only one person who could've caused such a reaction- "Oh good, you two finally got over your sexual tension." Tony drawled, and Bruce in his minds eye could see the man twirling a wine glass as he spoke.

Loki murmured as well, "We were distressed you were killing each other when we first heard the noise."

Clint, about now, would make some kind of witty joke, or remark but didn't. Bruce dug his fingers into the big arms and finally lifted his head. "Unless you are here to say something important, go away now. I was laughing." He sniffed, slightly, allowing a bit of his anger to creep into his voice.

Tony laughed, clapping him on the back. "Just as long as you keep all sex in the bedroom, I could care less what you do Banner. Now come on, we need your input on magic."

"No." Clint was trying to inch away, and Bruce dug his fingers in a little more to the arm. "I told you from the beginning, no magic."

"Bruce, Bruce, Bruce. Where's your sense of curiosity? Where's your wish to learn? To grow? To-"

"I've been trying to bury it since it turned me into a giant green rage monster, and then landed me in amongst a bunch of crazies." The temperature dropped about three degrees. Bruce sighed, pulling off his glasses, and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I will join you later. Now shoo."

They left, leaving behind just Bruce and Clint.

Clint specifically didn't look at Bruce as a thick, heavy silence hung between them. He remained perfectly still, in that assassins way he had. Bruce sighed. "Clint- you don't get along with Loki, do you?"

The entire crux of the matter, laid bare. Clint flinched, fingers curling against his palm. "I'm fine." His voice was flat, completely devoid of emotion. Carefully devoid of emotion. Bruce knew a little about emptying himself of emotion.

"Does Natasha know? About you and Loki?"

Clint looked away, and Bruce let him. It was easier, to talk about it on your own terms. "'Tasha… knows I'm not… all together, but she doesn't know why. She and Loki… are together you know?"

Bruce nodded seriously, "Loki and Natasha have made their affections for each other quite clear. It is the reason why he's even in this tower."

Clint scowled, finally beginning to loosen up and move. That should be a good sign… "I'm fine, I'm over it, it's not like it matters anymore. Loki did his time, and I've had time to move on."

Bruce didn't say anything, letting Clint continue on his own time.

* * *

_I'm making a fool of myself. The biggest fool that a person ever saw. What am I doing?_

Sleeping in the air vents above Bruce's room proved to be the safest hiding spot. No matter what Loki had promised about no more shades, he couldn't bring himself to trust the demi-god. Bruce was safe.

Which was the only reason why he was even saying all of this, pacing around like a caged tiger, thoughts jumbled together like a bag full of marbles. He missed marbles. He had taught the really little kids how to shoot marbles, back when he was in the circus. The smooth glass that glittered and shone in the light like eyes…

Eyes. He hated eyes. He was going too- he _wanted_to shoot Loki in the eyes so badly.

Clint thought he was doing fine, until he'd been forced to confront it, and all of a sudden he wasn't, and this wasn't something any of the psychologists SHIELD had given him could understand, that loss of control, that…

"Bruce?" He was breaking the number one cardinal rule about Banner- "What's it like when you're Hulk?"

Bruce went stiff, until suddenly he was the one looking down, frowning at the counter top. Bruce knew, he had to know. It wasn't just him. Selvig had fought, far harder then him when under the spell- Selvig had put in a failsafe, and ways to defeat Loki. He was a good man, unlike Clint who couldn't even fight less against Natasha when he went up against her.

Bruce took a deep breath, looking back up at Clint, as Clint watched him from the shiny reflective surface of the refrigerator. "It's like drowning. In green. A flash flood. I've seen several… before, when I was traveling. One minute, the city is there, the next minute, it's buried beneath water and mud and debris. One minute I'm standing in the rain, the next I'm buried and I can't breathe."

Clint had tried, and tried before to put those words, describe it to the psychologists. He had never succeeded in the eloquent way Bruce managed to make everything.

"How much do you remember?" He had to know- Bruce always asked what happened after, but Clint remembered everything. Every last detail, from the peoples faces that he shot, to Fury's disgruntled face when he realize who was shooting, to Natasha's calm, steady stance as she aimed to kill him.

"Some. Here… and there. It's, ah- depends on when and why I change. If I get shot and change? Not so much. Flashes of just tearing everything apart. But if I choose it. Then… A bit more."

"But not everything." Clint's shoulders slumped.

"I can." He whispered softly. Bruce watched him sharply, but there wasn't a shred of judgment in his eyes; just simple, terrible understanding. "I remember every last second, and I didn't fight it at all. You do- Selvig did. Selvig won! He installed a failsafe!"

Bruce made a small noise at that, looking thoughtful. Clint turned on him. "You know something, don't you?"

"Selvig… he sounds familiar… he- ah. We researched together. A collogue of mine. Then, it isn't surprising that… he installed a failsafe. He was always so very safety oriented. He tried to teach me, but- well- I didn't take the lessons very well."

"Wait, what are you saying Banner?"

"I'm saying that he isn't much different then you- you both were mind-controlled, it's just that Selvig, when I met him, his number one priority was safety. It's not safe to build a machine that doesn't have a failsafe. Even Tony installs fail safes, in Jarvis, in his building, in the suits… there are always fail safes."

Bruce looked so calm as he dropped the biggest surprise on Clint's lap. Like he expected Clint to know this already.

"Really?"

"It's one of the world's most important things. Even in erm- kinky relationships, there are safe words. Things to make sure everyone is safe. It's when you don't put those sorts of things in that problems begin lurking."

There was a light. There was a light at the end of the tunnel and it was named Bruce Fucking Banner. "So- He didn't…" He trailed off, unable to put it into words.

"So I doubt he was under less of a control then you. In fact, I think that the only reason why he put in that fail safe was because the gesture is automatic, you know? Even if I was mind-controlled, I'd try to put a off switch to a potentially dangerous piece of equipment. Afterall, no need to blow up my boss with it."

That… That- that was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, and before his mind had a chance to catch up with his body, he was leaning across the counter to kiss Banner on the lips.

Banner went completely still, eyes going wide, and green swirling within the dark brown.

Clint broke the kiss and fled.

* * *

Natasha was furious.

That thought alone usually warmed Clint to the very stomach. She didn't get mad often, and the times she did, it was usually for a very, very good cause. He just didn't know.

For Bruce though, it was an entirely different matter. The two of them were still wary of each other in their own odd way, and the fact that Clint obviously was hurt by the apparent refusal.

Well, it wasn't so much a refusal perse as a simple rejection of what was too dangerous.

But. Natasha. In front of him.

Scowling.

He was dead and he just hadn't stopped moving.

"Banner."

"May I help you?"

"Whatever you did to Barton, fix it."

"Well, ah, I would, if I knew where to find him." Bruce said quietly, "I realize that the kiss was in the heat of the moment, and he didn't actually mean it- I'm a little old, and a bit too broken-"

"No Banner."

"What?" Bruce blinked, pulled out of his very Clint-like ramblings to stare at her. "Erm, I didn't know- I mean- is-" He paused, pulling into himself, gathering his thoughts like tufts of cotton.

"Natasha, what do you want me to fix?"

"He kissed you." Natasha murmured, a brow furrowing in concern. "He- He has awful taste."

Bruce barely kept the wince off his face, because it was true enough. Anyone who liked him had awful, awful, horrible taste. "Yes-"

"He picks those who abandon him too readily." Natasha snapped back, her eyes coolly evaluating him. "You are an abandoner Banner."

"It's either that or scrape bits of their carcass from off the wall." Bruce felt the need to point out, because sometimes the Avengers really confused him. Someone had to remind them that they had a giant green rage monster that could turn on them at any second. Since he was the one with this monster, it had to be him.

"No, Bruce, everyone he's ever loved has abandoned him at some point. If you break his heart, then I will kill you."

"I don't understand what you want me to do Natasha." Frustration was beginning to build up inside, fueling anger. He took it, smoothed it out, allowed it to boil, but not overflow. "Am I supposed to confess my undying love to him on the roof? Because even if it were possible, it isn't really an option. I'm a bit… broken for that."

One perfectly plucked eyebrow rose. "Aren't we all?"

His mouth opened, then closed, and Bruce buried his face in his hands.

"Okay. Okay, just- do you know where he is?"

"Shouldn't you know that yourself?"

Bruce nodded slowly; Clint would be on the rooftops, crouched in the highest position he could physically climb too, sharp eyes watching the ground. The Other Guy rumbled softly, _ "Protect Cupid. Cupid important."_

There at least was something they could agree too. "I hear you," he murmured aloud, missing Natasha's startled look, "I guess it's time to go looking, huh?"

* * *

Clint had the 'Avoid Banner' schedule down flat. It mostly consisted of staking out the rooftop and not moving except for food and water. It was only right after all. He'd finally managed to get the words, the feelings-

He could face Loki now, now that he had realized what those sensations were like, that he wasn't the only one. It wasn't at his best, but he no longer felt as threatened. Nope, it all seemed to of changed over to Bruce instead.

Bruce who he kissed- Bruce who was standing below him, looking nervous, and Clint swallowed his own fear.

This was it, wasn't it? This was where all of their talks and laughs ended because he couldn't for once control himself. He never could, and everyone left him because of that. "Clint, could you come down?"

Slowly and cautiously he made his way down, until he stood before the doctor, arms crossed, trying to convince himself that he didn't care. "I- I don't know what to say." Bruce admitted slowly, "But- you know- don't… erm, don't tell Tony this, but recently… Hulk and I have been talking."

Clint was pretty sure his jaw hit the floor, because what did that have to do with anything- Wait, he hadn't told _Tony_? Then why was he telling Clint? "I asked him… about Loki. He said, 'Makes Cupid sad.' So… I don't- I'm not good with this sort of stuff."

Hulk… Hulk had been smashing Loki for _him_? Warmth blossomed in the pit of Clint's stomach. "Bruce-"

"I realize I'm not exactly dating material. I'm old, and quiet, and I have bad days where I won't want to talk to anyone, and try to run away from everything. I also have a huge anger-management issue." Why was Bruce telling him all of this?

"You're smart, and witty, you make me laugh. So… if it's not… a erm, uh- a uh- problem for you I'd um… I'd like to go out to- I don't know. Do you eat ice-cream? I miss ice-cream. I couldn't get it in India, or Brazil, I never had enough money. But well- If you don't, I understand."

Bruce paused, looking at him with big wide brown eyes that ought to be illegal because how could you possibly say _no_to them, and that was probably the reason why Tony had convinced Bruce to stay.

"I talk too much. And too loudly. I insult people, and I don't do well in social situations. I had a brother who abandoned me, and I expect everyone to do the same sooner or later. My psychologists call it trust issues."

Clint swallowed, dry and hard, "I find you to be smart and attractive. You aren't too old, just... older then me. That's not bad. You have the biggest hands I've ever seen, and I'd like to touch them, maybe warm you up a little. And ice-cream sounds like a dream date Scruffy."

Bruce smiled, slight and soft. "We can continue working on your Loki problem. While we're out."

Clint frowned, but forced himself to nod. Just because he was more okay with Loki now, it didn't mean that he was going to trust Loki. "And yours. Because as much as Hulk likes me, I can take care of myself."

"Cupid can't fly." Bruce recited with a straight face, before relenting just a little. "Clint?"

"Yeah?"

"I won't let Loki touch you. Not unless you allow it."

That… That was the most reassuring thing he had ever heard in his life, other then Budapest. "Okay. Okay. I can- yeah. Don't let him touch me?" He pleaded softly, hoping the Bruce would understand.

Bruce squeezed Clint's arm. "I won't."

He didn't.

-end-


End file.
